


Forget the Roses

by TellNearaToWrite



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Flowers, Gen, John meets Jim, Kidnapping, The Great Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellNearaToWrite/pseuds/TellNearaToWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Game played between Moriarty and Sherlock, John just wants to spend the evening with his girlfriend. When he stops by a flower shop, he runs into a familiar face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget the Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I found myself itching to write something where John meets Jim just one last time before the Pool scene, and thus this little fic was born. It takes place between the recovery of the Bruce-Partington Plans and the Pool scene, and is a slight deviation from the actual storyline.
> 
> Many thanks to [pkmndaisuki](http://pkmndaisuki.tumblr.com/) for being my beta here and prompting me to rework some awkward bits! <3
> 
> Also: A podfic from my lovely beta, found [here](http://pkmndaisuki.tumblr.com/post/30623279031/this-is-my-podfic-version-of-usuallyjustsubtexts).

“Oh, who’s the lucky dear?” I glanced up slowly, at first unsure if that voice—it sounded vaguely familiar—was speaking to me. My gaze was drawn to the intent dark eyes of a young man. I definitely knew him, but I couldn’t place him, dark haired and decked out in a suit he wore with ease. I gave him an apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

He barked a laugh, bringing up a hand to pat my shoulder. “Jim,” he said. “From the hospital,” he added a moment later, when his keen eyes saw my brief flash of confusion.

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” I held out my hand and his eyes turned to it. I thought for just a moment that he looked disgusted, but if the expression really was there, it disappeared almost instantly as he took my hand to shake.

“And you’re Doctor Watson,” he said, a smile widening across his face. “I’ve heard all about you. I read your blog.”

I gave him a smile. “I’m glad you like it.” With a nod, I turned my eyes back to the flowers I had been pondering before Jim appeared. I wanted to find something for Sarah, to apologize for leaving in such a hurry the other day.

“I never said I liked it,” Jim said with a laugh. My mind drew a blank and I turned my startled gaze back to him. “Your writing leaves everything to be desired. It’s all romanticized. Nothing scientific. Sherlock must be appalled.” As though he’d been reminded of something, the grin widened on his face. “Who’s the darling you’re getting flowers for?”

“My girlfriend,” I grated out.

“Oh, charming.” His expression said he believed anything but that. “I would get the roses, John—may I call you John?—you should always go for the best.” His disparaging glance around plainly told me he thought they were the best the shop could offer.

I bit back a rather negative response, mutely turning to grab the roses I had briefly debated over before I’d been interrupted. I brought them to the register, my jaw tightening at the price as I paid. I was vaguely aware that Jim was still standing at my side, though he seemed to have busied himself studying the bouquets that surrounded us. When I looked toward him, his gaze quickly shifted back to me, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Were you getting anything?” I asked, just barely managing to keep the tightness from my voice.

Jim frowned, eyes turning about the store with a fleeting expression of boredom. “No,” he said finally, the syllable drawn out with a warble. “I thought it might be a good idea…” I slowly moved toward the door, biding my time until he finished so I could politely excuse myself. When he followed, I resigned myself to having his company for a bit longer. “But I don’t think it will make the right first impression. First impressions are important, you know.” 

I opened my mouth to answer, but his words sunk in and I frowned. “Oh.” I paid him a small glance as I opened the door to walk out. “Not Molly, then?” I ventured.

We were outside and he’d fallen into step beside me in an easy saunter when he finally answered. “No.” There was a touch of laughter in his voice, but a quick glance told me it didn’t show on his face. “She made it clear that she didn’t think we were each other’s _type_.” I frowned at the disdain in his voice, but he waved it away in a dismissive gesture I found oddly familiar. “It’s fine.”

“Sherlock doesn’t know when he’s saying things he shouldn’t,” I said apologetically, despite the indication that it wasn’t necessary.

Jim laughed, eyes sparkling. “He’s too precious,” he said, his voice dripping with what seemed to me to be an unsettling level of adoration. I tried to shrug it off, casting a soft smile in Jim’s direction. 

“That’s not what most people say.”

“But he _is_ precious,” he insisted. “His mind is so…well, almost perfect. He’s so naïve with all of his little puzzles. His games.” His eyes took on a predatory glow, and I felt a stab of panicked worry. I’d met just a handful of people who were fans of Sherlock’s work, and I wasn’t quite sure what I thought of Jim in comparison. “And I never knew—well.” He blinked slowly, smile wide across his face.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably, meeting Jim’s eyes. He was openly staring, studying me intently. “What?” I asked shortly, vaguely curious and entirely wary. We paused at an intersection. 

“I think that’s for you, John.” Jim tipped his head slightly, indicating a taxi parked at the curb just passed the corner on the street we’d stopped on. The window rolled down slowly, and the driver poked his head out.

“John Watson? A taxi for John Watson.”

“I didn’t order a taxi.” I looked quickly between the driver and Jim, who was still studiously watching me. He leaned closer to me, putting an arm around my shoulders and steering me forward. 

“You should get in.”

“I didn’t…” My protest died in my throat when I caught the familiar glint of a gun in the shadows of the taxi. “Right.” I cleared my throat. “Where are we going?” I heard Jim chuckle beside me.

“It was up to Sherlock, and he decided he would be…clever?” he said. He didn’t seem inclined to answer my question, and I bit back a flair of indignant anger. “He really does love to be dramatic, doesn’t he? Big brother was right.”

I paused as the door to the taxi opened and turned to look toward Jim. “So, what?” I asked. “You’re a fan? Kidnapping me to get another chance to meet your idol?” There was a smile on his face and it only widened at my words. “You could have just paid him another visit at the hospital.”

“Oh.” He patted my shoulder sympathetically and gestured with his other hand, indicating I should get into the taxi. Another glance toward the driver showed the gun still trained on me. I withheld a vexed sigh, determined to keep calm and rational. I lowered myself onto the seat of the taxi, turning my full focus onto Jim’s face. 

“So, you think you can get Sherlock’s attention by kidnapping me?”

“It’s…a part of a puzzle for him. You know how he is with puzzles.” The smile vanished from his face, his hand trailing musingly across the door as he prepared to close it. “John, in case you were wondering…so you don’t forget…” I met his eyes just briefly. “The name’s Jim Moriarty.” I caught a glimpse of a fleeting grin before the door slammed shut, leaving me to try and bite down a rise of panic. My mind started racing, thoughts of—


End file.
